History of Us
by Ilyanna
Summary: AU. When Clara fails a History test, her friend introduces her to the Doctor, a weird bloke who might be able to help her.
1. Chapter 1

**Fandom: **Doctor Who

**Pairings: **Doctor x Clara

**Rating:** G

**Words:** 1447

**Summary:** When Clara fails a History test, her friend introduces her to the Doctor, a weird bloke who might be able to help her

**A/N:** I have no idea where this is going, so let's go together, shall we?

* * *

It was the last day of midterms at the new university, and I was pretending not to be nervous. What had started as a mere six-week summer vacation had ended up with me staying with the Maitlands for the past four months, and registering at Hazelwood University. Finishing my degree abroad wasn't something I had ever considered, but leaving the children so soon after their mother had passed away was not an option. I couldn't pretend pretend to know exactly what Angie and Artie were going through, but I knew how heavily the loss of a mother sat on one's heart. I wanted – I _needed_ – to be there for them like George and Olivia had been there for Dad and me on our darkest days. The bureaucracy of transferring my credits from the uni in England to the one in the suburbs of Boston almost made me give up for good, but everything was finally settled, so here I was at the library, cramming for my History exam.

A big "clomp" at her table alerted me of the arrival of Kath, my newest friend.

"Hey England," she said jovially, setting a paper cup in front of me.

"Coffee?" I asked. "Please tell me it's coffee." My head hurt from all the information I was trying to get into my brain at the last minute.

"In the two months I've known you, this is the first time I see you asking for coffee," Kath replied. "Sorry, dude. It's tea."

"I drink coffee all the time," I protested, getting the tea from Kath anyway as she made herself comfortable in the chair facing me. "Might as well try and soothe my nerves."

"How's that studying going?"

"Oh it's wonderful. History has always been my favorite subject in school."

Kath propped her feet on the table, dislodging my notes from their original place.

"I can never tell when you're being a sarcastic little shit or not, that accent of yours. I don't know how you can think you're in trouble when everything you say sounds smart and proper."

I would have smiled if I weren't so nervous.

"That's because History is my weakness, my Achilles heel. I've always hated History, I even needed a tutor to help me get through my A-levels."

"Easy there, England," Kath said, getting her own notebook out of the backpack she had dumped on the floor. "Tell you what: you flunk this test like you think you will, and I will find you a tutor. In fact…"

"What?" I asked, sipping my tea as Kath grew pensive. "Are you coming up with some kind of time travel machine so I can go into the past and experience History firsthand?"

"That," Kath answered, coming out of her reverie, "would be awesome! But no, I was actually thinking I might know just the person to help you out."

At my inquisitive gaze, Kath continued, "I don't really know him, but he's got a rep around here. Well, in the science department at least."

"A science bloke?"

"No judging, England," Kath said, lifting a finger. "Science blokes and _girls_ too, can have other interest in the never-ending academic field. Although not this girl, obviously."

I sighed.

"Okay. So when I fail – "

"If you fail, Clara. If you fail."

"_If_ I fail this test, what then?"

"Then I'm gonna find a way to introduce to this guy. He helped a friend of mine with Quantum Physics and horticulture last term. Guy's supposed to be a genius. Does research for the M.I.T. He's a big nerd. I'm gonna ask around, I bet he knows History as well. Sounds like the stuff he would read for fun, y'know? I actually think Brian knows him. You know Brian, my roommate? The one who's always asking about you?"

Kath smiled and I groaned, ignoring the comment about Brian. It was hard enough not being in control, not knowing what to expect from a given situation, and that's exactly how I felt whenever I had to study History. Yes, I knew it was important to understand the how's and why's of civilization's greatest achievements and disasters, but failed to appreciate why I had to take it as a required subject in college.

I stretched my arms and pulled my book closer to her once again, knowing I needed to get back to dates and facts.

"Alright. _When_ I fail this test, which is to say, in one hour and forty-five minutes, I'll be accepting any help I can get, even if it's from an outer-space alien. Now off you pop, I got to shove 150 more pages of useless information into my brain."

"I failed my test," I told Kath over the phone that night, resisting the urge to say I'd told her this would happen.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. My mini essay that was supposed to be 500 words long ended up being 50. The other four hundred and fifty words hid from me. They should just sort of… be there, but they weren't."

"Calm down, England. Was it really that bad? Aren't you exaggerating for dramatic effect, perhaps?"

"Yes," I groaned. "That is to say, yes, it was that bad. There is no way I got a good grade on that one."

"Alright then. Are you free now? The history bloke is here."

"The- he's there? At your house? Right now?

"No need to sound so incredulous. Yeah, turns out he's friendly with Brian, they're sort of working together on this project about cosmology or whatever. So, can you come over?"

I didn't even think twice. As annoying and frustrating as it was, this was a required course that I needed to pass if I wanted to graduate.

"Yeah, I'm on my way."

Kath lived near campus, which was about 20 minutes from Boston and the Maitlands. Her parents had recently gotten tired of life in the city and moved to Martha's Vineyard, leaving the house in the suburbs all for Kath. She made the most of it, renting all rooms – except the master bedroom – to college students. Besides Brian, she also roomed with Jeanine, an exchange student from France, and Sarah – Brian's girlfriend and main reason why I did not take his advances seriously. I was pretty sure Brian would act if I so much as hinted there was any possibility of something happening between us, so I never gave him the time of day. I wasn't planning on getting involved with anyone in America – I liked being single at the moment – but if it happened, better be someone who had something real to offer. I could just imagine Brian's response if I ever said something like that to him, and it wasn't anything I'd be comfortable letting Angie or Artie hear.

After parking George's car (he usually let me drive his Honda at night, after rush hour) in the driveway, I was ready to climb the steps to the front door and ring the bell, but a voice coming from the front yard surprised me, not because of its place of origin but because it was clearly someone from the motherland.

"I doubt they will hear you knocking. They're all very busy playing a Edwardian drinking game," the stranger said very seriously. "Apparently it is about someone with forty hands, which is scientifically interesting but highly improbable."

I stopped and turned to the voice. He was sitting in a stool, working with what appeared to be some wires and not looking my way. It was hard to see in the dark – there was only one lamp on the grass, close to where the stranger was – but he seemed to be wearing a very noticeable purple coat. I had an idea of this guy was.

"You must be science bloke. And how come you don't know about Edward Forty Hands? I thought it was required knowledge for any college student," I said, approaching his stool.

"Not a college student," he said easily, still working the wires. "And I see you're British. Lancashire, I presume?"

That caught me by surprise.

"How –"

"Oh just the way you talk."

I looked at him suspiciously. Kath had never said he was British, and it seemed unlikely she would forget to mention such a thing. Then again, in the few months we were acquainted, Kath had proven herself to be unpredictable at times.

"Are you the science bloke?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"_Science bloke_," he repeated, a smile escaping through his voice. "Yeah, I suppose I am."

He finally took his eyes off his wires and looked at me. I was close enough now to see him properly, and he was… weird. Good-looking, yes. I couldn't make out much in the dark, but he appeared to have big, beautiful eyes, and he was tall and lean. But there was a weirdness that emanated from him, a little something that seemed to say 'watch out because I'm not like you.'

I took a deep breath, thinking 'oh what the hell," and asked what I had come to ask him.

"So, what do you know about American History?"

* * *

**A/N2:** As usual this fanfic is only here thanks to my good friends Lany and Mari, and as usual, I post it on my blog first. You can check it out at _clarainthelibrary_ on tumblr.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Fandom: **Doctor Who

**Pairings: **Doctor x Clara

**Rating:** G (for now)

**Words:** 1387

**A/N:** I have no idea where this is going, so let's go together, shall we?

* * *

"You could come with me."

"What, now?" I answered.

"Yeah, what's wrong with now?" He got up from the stool, throwing the wires he'd been working with on the floor quite carelessly.

"Nothing, what's wrong with tomorrow? And come with you where?"

"My place," he replied as if it were the most obvious statement in the world. "I don't live far from here, we can get there in about oh, 20 minutes," he stated, looking at his watch and then pointing at a motorbike parked a few meters in front of my car.

"Excuse me?"

"You wanna learn history, right?"

"I don't have my books," I said crossing my arms and staring at him in disbelief.

"No matter."

"What?"

"Books. I have them. So are you coming?"

"You don't even know my name. And I don't even know if you're good enough to help me," I defied him.

He scratched his head lightly, moving all of his fingers as he did it, as if he wasn't sure how to proceed. It was a bit funny.

"Name's Clara Oswald. And you are?"

"I'm the Doctor," he said quite proudly. If he had a tie on, I bet he would have reached to straighten it. He just seemed like one of those guys.

"Doctor? Doctor who?"

This conversation was getting more and more confusing, and Kath would have hell to pay for wasting my time if this bloke turned out to be a lunatic, which I was inclined to say he was.

"No, just the Doctor." Seeing my disbelieving face, he reached into the inside pocket of his purple jacket and gave me an ID card. It was from M.I.T. and it read "Dr. John Smith, PhD."

"Smith? John Smith? Are you actually for real?"

"It's me name, yeah. But it's a rubbish name, no one calls me that. Everyone calls me the Doctor. I call me the Doctor too. One of these days I'll figure out when it all started," he smiled.

"Okay. _The Doctor_," I shook my head trying to focus on what I really came here for. "Can you help me with History?"

"What period?"

"Uh, the start?"

"Right! The very beginning. Okay!" He clapped his hands loudly, and started blabbing on about the French, the Spanish and thirteen British colonies until my head started hurting. Apparently the guy really knew his stuff.

"Okay, alright. Blimey, you're giving me a headache. So. Can you really help me?" He stopped talking and looked at me, confusion on his face.

"I thought I already was?"

"Sorry, my mind wandered a bit around the time the British arrived," I explained. "Can you really, actually help me study? It's a required class."

"Yes, of course," he affirmed, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. He started opening his mouth to say something, but changed his mind. He looked at me, then at his hands, and finally said, "Does tomorrow work for you?"

"In the afternoon, yeah. Can we meet at a library?"

"Sorry no. I always get thrown out of libraries."

"How come?"

"Can't keep still, can't keep quiet. Also, their cataloguing systems always seem to disagree with me. You can come over to my place, I'll be working on my research." Upon seeing my face, he added, "Oh don't worry, my roommates will be there. You can bring your friend along too, if that'd make you more comfortable."

I looked at him for a few seconds, wondering why I was hesitating. He was clearly some sort of genius who knew History and was willing to help me out. And even though he was very tall and possibly very strong, he didn't seem threatening. There was something in his demeanor, in his eyes that begged me to trust him, and I found that somehow I already did.

"Okay. What's your address?"

* * *

"I thought you'd live closer to the MIT," I said as he opened the door. He was actually at Harvard Square, right off Brattle Street, in an actual house instead of a crammed flat like I imagined he would be. The house actually had a small garden and a garage, which was very luxurious for the area.

"They offered me a flat near the Institute but I prefer living here with my friends. Come on in," he answered, leading me through a hallway into the living room. It was decorated in a Victorian style with what appeared to be mismatched antique furniture.

"Blimey! Your friends don't play around when it comes to decorating."

"It's their hobby," he smiled. "My office is in the basement," he opened a door with stairs leading downstairs. Last night I decided to trust him, so I managed to keep my suspicious side at bay and followed him down the stairs. I was surprised when we reached the bottom: the basement was so much bigger than I could have imagined. The floor was a light shade of grey and the walls were painted in a dark shade of blue with weird symbols all around. It was a very well lit room, with a huge desk full of papers and gadgets in the middle. There was a sort of living area to the right, with a bookcase and two armchairs, and to the left there was a bunk bed.

"Do you actually sleep here?"

"Sometimes. I have a room upstairs but I usually work late and it's convenient to have a place to crash here," he answered. "Right. You're not stupid, are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Stupid. I don't think you are. Which means that there's something in your mind that blocks you from learning history, so we're gonna need to work around that."

That caught me by surprise. No one had ever read me that fast. Back in school people always assumed I was being lazy, not paying attention or not studying enough.

"Ah!" he continued after seeing the surprise on my face. "Spot-on. Don't worry, I can't read minds or anything like that. I just assumed that's what it is because you asked for my help. People who are just lazy to study don't go around asking for help."

I didn't say anything as I was still a bit freaked out, even though his explanation made sense.

"Alright, follow me," he exclaimed excitedly. I followed him to a hidden corner that couldn't be seen from the bottom of the stairs. In a little nook with a low ceiling, there was a big lamp hanging over a fluffy, blue rug. There were two beanbags facing each other and a bunch of books on the floor between them. There was also a round coffee table on the side, with a small vase of flowers, a teapot, two teacups and snacks.

"It's still a bit rustic as I only had time to put it together this morning, but what do you think, eh?"

I looked from him to the studying corner, not knowing exactly what to make of it.

"Did you say this morning? This wasn't here before?"

"Well, no," he sounded confused. "I didn't need this before you asked me to help you study."

"Do you mean to say you put this together for me?"

He seemed even more confused at my question, and I thought maybe I was judging this wrong, reading too much into it. I could feel my cheeks burning from embarrassment and was about to change the subject when he said:

"Why, yes. You asked me for my help so I thought that if we were going to do this, we would need a special place. You see, it helps you concentrate if you have a constant studying-" he stopped abruptly, and then scratched his head again like he did the night before. I found myself smiling at the already familiar gesture. "Oh!" he continued, "you don't like it?"

"What? No! No, that's not it. I- I love it. It's perfect!" I answered jumping on one of the beanbags. He still seemed a bit insecure, so I decided that honesty was perhaps my best weapon for this weird situation. "It's just… this is the nicest thing a stranger has ever done for me."

He smiled broadly, jumping on the other beanbag and picking up a book from the floor.

"Ah! But you see, I don't think we're strangers anymore."

* * *

**A/N2:** As usual this fanfic is only here thanks to my good friends Lany and Mari, and as usual, I post it on my blog first. You can check it out at _clarainthelibrary_ on tumblr.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Fandom: **Doctor Who

**Pairings: **Doctor x Clara

**Rating:** G

**Words: **1244

**A/N:** I have no idea where this is going, so let's go together, shall we?

* * *

I spent the afternoon at the Doctor's house and I felt like I learned more in those few hours than during the two months I had been going to my History class. He started by telling me to close my eyes and imagine everything he was saying. Then he described places, people, smells, noises and I could actually see it all very clearly in my head. After that he would set me as a character in that period, basically giving me a different life and forcing me to imagine how that life would be with background information on how people lived, what their motivations and hopes and fears were. Finally, he had me reading a few paragraphs here and there from different books he provided, asking me how my specific character at that moment in time might react to important historical facts. It felt more like time traveling than studying, and I was surprised at how effective it was.

We were in the middle of a scene in which I was imagining myself as a Native American man when I heard a knock on the door and footsteps down the stairs.

"Doctor?" It was a female voice asking for him.

"Ah! Vastra! Lovely! Come and meet Clara," he exclaimed, jumping up to meet her halfway. I got up and followed.

She was tall and had deep green eyes that stared at me as if she had just remembered a joke no one else was privy to. She was dressed in a sophisticated black dress, and carried herself with confidence. The familiar way the Doctor talked to her made something unpleasant stir inside of me; I didn't like it so I decided to ignore it until it went away. He introduced us and asked her about her day, not casually like most people usually do, but as if he really cared about her answer, which I think he actually did. When their conversation lagged a bit, I decided to jump in.

"I hear you like decorating."

She smiled at me.

"I do, but not as much as Jenny. I suppose you've seen the living room?" I nodded. "That's all hers, although I must confess the taste for Victorian style comes from me. But Jenny does find the most beautiful antiques."

"Is Jenny your other roommate?" I asked the room in general, and Vastra chuckled.

"In a way, yes," she answered vaguely and turned away from me. "Well Doctor, we are going to the Mayor's dinner party. I gather you are not coming?"

"Dinner party? No, no. I am most definitely not going. Is that tonight?"

"Did you forget?" The Doctor shrugged. "It's a pity you're not going. He will be most disappointed, although not at all surprised, I daresay."

"Eh? What does that mean?"

"Only that you never seem to enjoy that kind of environment."

"What, parties? I enjoy parties! Lively music, intellectually stimulating conversation, finger food… what's not to enjoy?"

Vastra merely smiled before saying goodbye and leaving.

"I do enjoy parties," the Doctor complained. I went back to our studying nook to get my purse, thinking that if it was already time for people to go to parties, it was probably time for me to go home. "So do you wanna go?"

I stopped before reaching my destination and looked at the Doctor, only to find him staring intently at me.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The party, do you wanna go?"

"At the mayor's house?"

"Yeah. Well no. It's probably at a hotel, most likely. I don't know, maybe it is at his house. I have the invitation here somewhere." At that he ran to his desk in the center of the room and started throwing things around, apparently looking for this invitation.

"Are you serious? A party hosted by the mayor? How do you even know the mayor?"

"I play chess with him, we're chess buddies," he answered without looking at me. It was very improbable that he was a friend of the mayor – whomever the mayor was, I had no idea – but I decided to play along. If there really was a party going on, I supposed I could use some laughs after more than four hours of History. At least that what I told myself in an attempt to mask the fact that I didn't want to say goodbye just yet.

"Alright. I need to stop at home and get changed then."

"Why?" He stopped rummaging on his desk and turned to face me. "You look bea– fine. You look just fine."

I was wearing a half-sleeved navy dress with a mustard belt, black tights and black boots, along with a leather jacket. I was sure I looked "just fine" to go for a pint at the pub but not so much if this really turned out to be some sort of fancy party. But at least I wasn't wearing my question mark sweater.

"A-ha there it is!" he said, pointing at the bookcase in the living area of his office, walking over, picking up a black envelope and tugging it into the back pocket of his jeans. "Right, so why don't you look around for the spare helmet and I'll be right back?" He gave me a smile and ran upstairs.

It didn't take long for me to find a helmet that I hoped was the spare one he mentioned. Slowly a picture of the man who was teaching me History started forming in my mind, and he was easily the most eccentric person I'd ever met. The Doctor was definitely some sort of genius who did research for the MIT, but he was also a kind soul who helped people he barely knew. He was hyper all the time, jumping around and talking with his hands, but it didn't take a mastermind to notice that despite all this puppy-like behavior, all this lightness that emanated from him, there was sadness in his eyes. He also had a motorbike, which I would never have guessed; he seemed the kind of guy who would only ride the tube. He intrigued me like few people ever did, and this only made me want to get to know him more and more.

* * *

I went up the stairs to wait for him in the living room and it didn't take him long to show up, wearing different clothes. This time he had on a black pants, a pale blue shirt, a brownish-green jacket, and a dark purple bowtie.

"You changed!"

"Well, yes. I could barely go to a party wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. Oh you found the helmet, good, good. Ready?"

It took us about half an hour to get to Back Bay because Boston traffic on a Saturday night was always barking mad. The party turned out to be in a hotel like the Doctor said, and after he parked his motorbike, we walked a few blocks to get there. It was a chilly October night but the sky was clear and full of stars. As we approached the hotel and a porter held the door open, I began to feel a bit self-conscious, but as if he could read my mind, the Doctor stopped me by putting an arm on my shoulder, and I turned to face him.

"Clara Oswald," he smiled and offered me his arm. I smiled back, passing my arm through his and letting him guide me to the ballroom of the hotel, towards the dinner party.

* * *

**A/N2:** As usual this fanfic is only here thanks to my good friends Lany and Mari, and as usual, I post it on my blog first. You can check it out at _clarainthelibrary_ on tumblr.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Fandom: **Doctor Who

**Pairings: **Doctor x Clara

**Rating:** G

**Words:** 1558

**Summary:** When Clara fails a History test, her friend introduces her to the Doctor, a weird bloke who might be able to help her

**A/N:** I am terribly sorry for the delay. For quite some time I had no idea where this was going, and was just playing around with ideas in my head – from big explosions to betrayals and acts of heroism. Then I realized that if I wanted that, I'd be writing in the show's universe. So this is a plain, boring, everyday life for Clara and the Doctor, but I hope you find it exciting to read as I found it to write. A little disclaimer: I know the Queen of Years' name is Merry Gejehl but let's be honest folks, that wouldn't work here, so I simplified her name. I also took down her age because five-year-olds are more fun to write.

* * *

If I was entertaining the notion that this was actually a date – like a real, proper date – the first minutes at the party proved me wrong. The Doctor introduced me to the Mayor and his wife as well as to a couple of other people, but that was the extent of his courtesy as he left to mingle and I was left alone. I accepted a wine glass from a waiter who was passing by and amused myself by watching all the people in their beautiful and possibly extremely uncomfortable clothes. As I made my way through the beautifully decorated room, I caught sight of a little girl sitting by herself at one of the corner tables. She seemed to be around five years old, and seemed a bit nervous. I looked around but no adult seemed concerned with the little girl, so I put my glass down on one of the empty tables and walked over, sitting beside her.

"Hello!" She looked at me but didn't answer, so I continued, "what's your name?"

"Mary Gallel."

"That's pretty. Do you mind if I sit?" She shrugged so I pulled a chair and sat down.

"What is your name?" she asked me a bit timidly.

"I'm Clara. Clara Oswald."

"You talk funny."

I smiled.

"I really do, don't I?"

"Yeah! Where are you from?"

"This far away place called England."

"Does everybody talk funny in England?"

"Yes," I laughed softly. "Some talk even funnier than me, but it's all good because we can understand each other."

She simply smiled, so I asked her where her mum and dad were. She pointed in the general direction of the dance floor (I figured that's what it was, even though no one was dancing) but didn't say anything until I asked her if she went to school.

"Yes. I go to preschool right across the street. Next year I'm going to kindergarten," she said proudly.

"That's really cool! I go to school too, but it's not as cool as yours."

"You're a little old to go to school," she frowned and I laughed.

"Yeah, suppose I am."

"Does your mother make you go every day?"

"Nah. I go because I want to. I don't have a mum anymore, but when I did, she made me go even when I was sick from eating too much chocolate," I answered truthfully, and she laughed.

"Mind if I cut in?" a modulated voice asked. I looked and saw Vastra and another lady standing right behind my seat, and felt my cheeks burn a little bit. I hoped they didn't get a chance to hear the end of the conversation.

"Oh, hi!" I got up, winking at Mary and turning towards Vastra and her friend.

"Clara, let me introduce you to Jenny Flint," she pointed at the young lady by her side. She was a bit shorter than Vastra, but just as elegant, with her hair carefully parted in the middle and tucked in a bun. "Jenny, this is miss Clara…" she stopped and looked inquisitively at me.

"Oswald. Clara Oswald," I jumped in, extending my hand to Jenny. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she answered. "You're the Doctor's date then?"

"His date?" I laughed nervously. "I suppose so, if you consider he invited me and we arrived together."

"The Doctor just told me he's been helping miss Clara with an assignment for college. History, is it?" Vastra asked. I was about to answer when I saw a familiar face coming towards us. I couldn't help but grin at the sight of the Doctor holding two champagne flutes, and was suddenly very aware of Vastra and Jenny observing me intently.

"Ah there you are!" he finally reached us and gave me one the flutes, taking a quick drink of his and immediately spitting it back in his flute, making a weird face. It was endearingly disgusting.

"What was that for?" I asked, laughing quietly.

"Champagne never really agreed with me," he answered.

"Then why do you drink it?" Vastra asked, enunciating every word calmly and properly. I wondered if she ever raised her voice or talked really fast and how weird it would be if she did.

"Who knows, I might find out one day that something has changed," he said putting his flute on the table where Mary was still sitting, looking at us as if trying to decide whether or not to go find her mum.

"Why, hello there!" he said to Mary, opening a huge grin. He might have continued the conversation, but Vastra rested a hand on his shoulder and said "Doctor, he's here" very softly, gaining his full attention. She pointed her head to the Doctor's right, and when he looked over, his face changed to a mixture of anger and fear. He was staring at a man wearing a black suit and a thin tie, accompanied by a beautiful blonde lady.

"Ah," the Doctor said softly. "It seems like the party is over for me. Clara," he looked at me, "do you mind if we go now?"

"Not at all," I answered quickly, placing my untouched champagne flute on the table and saying goodbye to Mary, Vastra and Jenny.

* * *

The Doctor was very quiet all the way back to the parking space where he left his motorbike. I tried lightening the mood a couple of times, but he seemed so lost in his thoughts as not to even notice I was talking. It was only when I suggested I take a cab back to the Maitlands that he seemed to wake up from a trance.

"A cab? No, don't be ridiculous. I brought you, I'll take you home, it's no trouble at all," he said confidently. I tried insisting on getting myself home because I was starting to feel uncomfortable in this situation, but since he wouldn't hear of it and I actually preferred a ride than relying on public transport, I accepted.

When we got home I was ready to say goodbye and call it a night, but he actually stood up, took his helmet off and walked me to the door. I looked at him in a way that was meant to let him know not to try any funny business with me, but I don't think I needed to worry.

"I just wanted to apologize, Clara. Whisking you away from the party like that… it wasn't cool," he said, sitting down on the steps leading to the front door. He seemed distressed, so I sat down beside him.

"Who was that man?"

"Ah," he half-smiled. "You noticed."

"It was hard not to. You seemed to be having a good time then all of a sudden you went stiff and wanted to leave."

He looked at me and smiled sadly.

"Harold Saxon. He was a friend of mine."

"You didn't seem very friendly back there."

"No, I suppose not. This was the first time I saw him in years."

"I'm sorry."

His smile didn't seem so sad now, but his eyes didn't let the lie go unnoticed.

"I'm sorry about your mum," he said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"Vastra and Jenny overheard you talking to that little girl. Vastra texted me right after we left to tell me. I'm sorry."

"Blimey, people like to gossip."

"It's true then?"

I sighed. I didn't like talking about Mum, especially to strangers. But the words the Doctor told me on the night we met came back to me, and I finally got what he meant. We might not know a lot about each other, but there was a gut feeling that kept telling me I could trust this man, that we may not be friends yet, but we certainly weren't strangers anymore.

"She died when I was sixteen. Heart disease."

"I'm truly sorry."

I smiled at him.

"It was really hard in the beginning. Still is, sometimes, but I don't feel the pain as much anymore. I just… miss her."

"Is that why you moved to America?"

"No. I came over to stay with the Maitlands," I pointed at the house, "for a week before traveling to California with my mate Nina. But in that week, Olivia died. I couldn't let the kids go through it alone, and welcome a stranger to take care of them so soon after this tragedy."

"You don't run out on the people you care about," he smiled sadly again. "Wish I was more like that."

I wanted to say something to that, but couldn't find the right words. There was no need though, because he shook away his dark mood, and said quite enthusiastically, "The thing is, you can still travel around here, yeah? Maybe we should plan something. I haven't been to New York in a very long time and—" he saw my face and stopped short. "What?"

"Does this work?"

"Eh?"

"Is this actually what you do? You just start helping someone then crook your finger and suddenly people are traveling with you?"

He laughed.

"Bit too soon?"

"Maybe, yeah," I laughed too. He stood up, put his helmet on and got on his motorbike.

"You know, I'm free tomorrow if you want to come over and study some more."

I smiled and waved, leaving him in a bit of suspense but already knowing that come tomorrow I would see him again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rating:** T

**Words:** 1565

**A/N: **Remember: Feedback makes me write faster! Thank you to those of you who have kindly said a few words about this story, I really appreciate that. Also, another little A/N by the end of the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

My routine changed quite a bit in the month that followed the mayor's party. Every Monday and Wednesday I went to college in the morning, made sure Angie and Artie did their homework in the afternoon, and finally went out with the Doctor in the evening. We usually met at his place, studied for about two hours and then ordered some food. It was usually just the two of us but sometimes Vastra and Jenny joined us. They'd gotten married only the previous year and after spending some time with them, it was impossible not to notice how in love they were. A few times I caught Vastra – usually so collected, so in control of her emotions – looking at Jenny with such fondness and tenderness that it made my heart ache and imagine what it would be like to have someone look at me like that.

I wondered if the Doctor had ever felt that way about someone. I liked to think I was a very perceptive person, but I just couldn't figure him out. It didn't help that he avoided getting into personal matters; I only knew that he was from Northampton, that what he missed the most about home were Jammie Dodgers, and that he had a weird – but entirely fascinating – obsession with bowties.

Thinking of the Doctor was neither wise nor desirable, as I was once again sitting at the Library trying to study for yet another History exam. I felt a bit more confident this time around but was still nervous, so I shut off the part of my brain that didn't deal with the Puritans and concentrated on my study guide.

"This time I brought you coffee, England," a familiar voice said as I was about to put away my notes, and I grinned. Kath and I had the same free period between classes, and usually met at the library, unless she was running late or simply decided to skip class.

"You're my hero," I answered, accepting the coffee from Kath and taking a sip. "So, what's going on? Did you finish your lab report? It was due this week, right?" I asked.

"Yep, finished it all yesterday and it's not due until Friday. Now I don't know if what I'm feeling is pride or disgust, it's the first time I finish something before it's due."

"Look at you, all responsible and everything," I teased, putting my notes away and drinking more of the coffee she brought me.

"Yeah, you must be rubbing off on me, and not in a good way," she answered, sitting down beside me at the library table. "So. Big test today again. How do you feel?"

"Nervous," I said, biting my thumb, "but confident."

"So the Doctor helped you, eh? That's good!"

"He did, and how! It's amazing how he makes everything sound interesting, and – " I stopped, realizing I sounded too excited.

"Oh no, I know that face. What is it, spill the beans!"

I sighed.

"It's nothing, it's just… he explains things in a way that's easy to understand, it's more like role-playing in a way. But there's something else, too… it's like I don't wanna disappoint him, you know? It's silly!"

"I don't think it's silly at all," Kath answered right away, the teasing gone from her voice. "Some people are like that, you know? They make us want to work harder and be better."

"Yeah, but…" I played with my hair, looking for the right words for what I was trying to say, "shouldn't we want to do that on our own? Be our own person, try and be better for ourselves rather than for other people?"

"Are you trying to be better for the _science bloke_?" Kath raised an eyebrow suggestively at me.

"No, no, it's not like that," I added quickly. "Seriously, Kath. It's _nothing_ like that."

"Right," she said as if she didn't believe me. "Anyway, you're getting too philosophical for my taste, let's talk about something fun. Halloween is this Friday, what are you doing?"

"Handing out candy, I suppose. The kids are going out with their mates from school."

"Yeah but I mean at witching hour, not at 8 o'clock, Clara," she rolled her eyes. "More specifically, the party at my place. You're coming, right? And don't give me that look implying you're above such things as parties."

"Kath, my definition of a good party is one where people drink and socialize and make connections, not one where everyone ends up puking in the toilet."

She smiled as if my words brought back good memories, and started getting up. "You're coming and that's that. And you have to wear a costume. Now come, I'll walk to class with you," her tone left no room for argument as she rose and extended her hand, and we left the library together.

* * *

As soon as I got my exam back two days later, I caught the train and found myself skipping my station, leaving the train at Harvard Square instead. As I walked the four blocks to the Doctor's house, I tried ringing his mobile to let him know I was on my way, but he didn't pick up. I felt some moments of doubt at turning up unannounced at his place, but it was too late to turn back now. I rang the bell, and Jenny answered.

"Why, hello Clara. Do come in," she said cordially.

"Sorry for the spontaneous visit," I laughed nervously, entering the house. "Is the Doctor home?" I asked, as I followed Jenny inside their sitting room. Vastra met us halfway.

"Clara? What a pleasant surprise! Is the Doctor expecting you?"

"Afraid not," I said, looking around and noticing the lack of couches in the room.

"Well, I'm afraid he isn't home now, but it shouldn't take long for him to return. Jenny, why don't you call his private line at the Institute?" Jenny left and Vastra turned back to me with a smile. "I do apologize for the mess," she pointed at the room in general. "We're redecorating again, so the sofas and chairs are gone until the ones we got last weekend in New Hampshire are fixed. They will look much better once they're properly cleaned, though."

"Sounds lovely," I showed a half-feigned interest while in truth I was beginning to get very self-conscious; Vastra was staring at me curiously, as if she knew something I didn't. Jenny came back saying she had reached the Doctor and he would be home soon.

"Well, I am very sorry but Jenny and I have somewhere to be. Oh don't worry, dear," she added, guessing I was about to say I would leave. "You stay here and wait for the Doctor, he won't be long. And I'm sure you'd be more comfortable elsewhere in the house, where you can relax while you wait. Just go up the stairs, left on the hallway, and into the second door to your right."

After they said their goodbyes I proceeded to the room where Vastra told me to wait. The first thing I noticed was how simple the décor was, so different from the other parts of the house I'd seen. There was only a bed, a sitting chair, and a wardrobe; the walls were painted a light shade of yellow and there was a big window to the right of the bed, with a window seat right in front of it. I left my bag on the floor, approached the window and got rewarded with a nice view of the busy, sunny street below, and imagined how it would be sitting there at sunset, watching all the people hurrying along, to a job, to their homes, to loved ones.

I was so entertained imagining lives for the people walking down the street that it took me a while to notice my elbow was on top of something other than the windowsill: a picture frame, turned on its back. I picked it up and it fell apart, the picture falling right on my lap. It was a night shot of four people at Trafalgar Square, and the Doctor was one of them. He was wearing his characteristic bowtie, black pants, a tweed jacket and a stupid grin on his face. His eyes were bright and full of life, and his smile conveyed such happiness that my heart broke a little when I realized I'd never seen that look on his face before. He wasn't alone: on one side he was hugging a very tall, very beautiful redhead girl, who in turn was holding another guy; on the other side he was embracing an older woman who was also very beautiful. They all looked very happy, as if they were ready to take on the world by storm, and it was impossible not to smile at the scene, even though my heart insisted on being impractical and skipping a beat or two over the sight of him being so close to two very attractive women.

I turned the picture around and saw that someone had written on its back. It read, "Rory and Amelia Pond, Dr. Smith and Dr. Song," then in a different handwriting, "Thought you might like to have this back. Don't be a stranger, Doctor! – Sarah Jane."

The sound of the door opening downstairs quickly followed by the Doctor calling my name woke me up from my reverie. I put the picture back in the broken frame and positioned it as close as I could to where I'd found it, picked up my bag from the floor and met the Doctor by the door, trying not to think about the million questions running through my mind.

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**A/N2:** I apologize if this chapter seemed a bit slow but I needed to set some things in stone for the story to move forward. I promise more Doctor and Clara interaction for the next chapter, which will be posted this weekend if all goes well. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Rating:** T

**Words:** 1333

**A/N: **Changing things up a little bit, experimenting here and there. This fanfic was supposed to be written in third person, but when it came down to it, I couldn't do it. But I've been missing the Doctor's input so I decided to try things from his point of view for a little bit, along with Clara's. Let me know what you think! Next chapter will hopefully be up next week, but I can't promise anything. Remember: feedback makes everyone write faster! *wink wink*

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**The Doctor**

I opened the door quickly, calling her name. No answer. I wondered if she decided not to wait for me, and didn't notice I was holding my breath until I heard her soft voice coming from upstairs. An unwarranted smile threatened to creep upon my face but I refused to let it spread, nonchalantly skipping every two steps on my way up the stairs.

"Hey! Hi!" she said enthusiastically, putting her hands in her pockets then taking them out and crossing her arms across her chest.

"Everything alright?"

"Fine, yeah. Oh! Sorry for dropping in unannounced, but I have something to show you," she smiled and reached inside her bag, taking out a carefully folded piece of paper, handing it to me. I eyed her curiously and unfolded it, looking at her History exam.

"B-! That's wonderful, Clara!" I said, eyeing her answers to find what she did wrong so I would know where to focus on our next lesson. "Ah! You didn't write anything on mercantilism?"

"No time," she answered defensively and I realized I must have sounded disappointed, which I definitely wasn't. I handed her exam back and clapped my hands loudly.

"Well, we have to celebrate, eh? It's almost happy hour, what do you say?" I turned back to look at her and found her smiling at me.

"It's three in the afternoon."

"And happy hour is banned in Boston, so what's the difference? Besides," I said, confirming the time in the watch on my wrist, and letting a small smile come to my face, "it's 9pm in England."

She laughed.

"Fair enough. I'm free of nanny responsibilities today, so I'm all yours for the evening," she said brightly, and I felt myself starting to blush.

"Brilliant! Do you think there'll be rain? Should we bring an umbrella?" I talked very fast, moving towards the window to look outside. I didn't want her knowing how her words affected me. I didn't want her words affecting me _at all_. Emotions under control, I turned back to her with a flourish, my coat hitting something on the windowsill, something that hit the floor crashing. I looked down and saw a picture inside the frame – now all shattered, just like the people it was holding inside its broken glass.

* * *

**Clara**

I could pinpoint the exact moment his expression changed. It wasn't when the picture frame fell or when he picked up the broken pieces, throwing it all – photograph included – in the bin next to the door. A shadow came over his face the moment he looked down and saw those four people smiling up at him. It was as if he'd seen a ghost rising from the dead, and in those few seconds he was like an open book, the pain hidden behind his flippant behavior right there for all to see.

Instinctively I reached out to him, but he avoided my touch, walking back towards the window and staring outside. The place I found so beautiful moments before now felt constricted. Haunted. The contrasting image of the man in the picture and the man standing with his back to me was engraved on my mind and I knew I had to try something to bring him back.

"Doctor?" I dared to place my hand on his back, right between his shoulders and felt his body tensing. Asking him if he was okay wouldn't do any good, I knew he wouldn't answer me. So I did the only thing I thought might work in this situation: I pretended nothing had happened. "Are we going for cocktails or what?"

He turned to face me slowly, very slowly, and my hand fell to my side.

"Clara Oswald," he smiled sadly. "I thought you were more of a wine girl."

I grinned, exhaling a sigh of relief.

"I love wine, yes. But three in the afternoon calls for a strawberry daiquiri."

"You know," he said slowly, "I never had one of those."

"Well, today is your lucky day then! Shall we?" I extended my hand, and after looking at it with some hesitation, he took it and we left his house.

* * *

We ended up at a pub not too far from his place. It was mostly empty, which didn't surprise me considering it was mid-afternoon. We were sat at one of the corner booths, and the Doctor soon ordered two strawberry daiquiris. He was quite a sight, sitting in front of me holding a fruity drink, wearing a light blue shirt, braces and his bowtie, his coat carelessly thrown beside him.

"So, Doctor. Why bowties?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you wear them all the time? I mean, do you have something against regular ties, or is it just a fashion choice to make you look cool?"

"Oh I look cool, do I?" He grinned. I blushed. "I don't know. It was just something that happened. First thing I ever bought with my own money was a bowtie, so I've been wearing them ever since."

"How old were you?" I asked curiously.

"Fourteen. It's actually an interesting story," he clapped his hands together, then rested them uncertainly at the table. "Well, at least I think it is. I worked at a coffee shop on weekends and it was right next to this very small thrift shop. I left my job after getting paid, and decided that I wanted to buy a little memento before putting the money away—"

"What, so you stopped at a second-hand shop? No candy shop, no record shop?" I interrupted, laughing.

"No," he laughed too, sipping his drink. "Anyway, I went in there and asked the shop lady, very seriously, what was the cheapest item they had. She scowled and pointed to a red, raggedy bowtie, and said 'you can have that one for free, mate.' So I took it, and I wore it everyday until it fell completely apart," he finished.

"So technically, you didn't really buy it."

"No," he smiled. "But it felt like I did."

"And that's how you started your bowtie-wearing tradition," I affirmed.

"I like them," he smiled, adjusting it on his neck.

"I like them too," I teased, changing the subject before he could follow up on that comment. "So, is your family in America as well, or just you?"

I regretted my choice of topic almost immediately. While his face remained impassive, his eyes betrayed how uncomfortable he was.

"It's only me, no family," he said matter-of-factly.

"Just like me, then," I said brightly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well… no, that's not what I meant," he looked at me with big, determined eyes, as if he'd just decided he could trust me. I sat a little forward on my chair, paying attention to his every move. "My parents left me when I was still a baby. From what I hear, they never really wanted children and I just… sort of happened."

"Oh!" What could I say in response to that? He was being forthcoming, so I decided to push it a little further. "Did you ever meet them?"

He laughed humorlessly. "They died a couple of months after leaving me with my grandmother. I was still a young lad when Gran Susan passed, and was brought up by several different family members, all in Northampton, but left as soon as I could. I haven't been back there in years," he finished.

"I'm sorry," was all I managed to say, as I rested my hand on top of his, trying to let the gesture offer the comfort my words couldn't. He looked at our hands sadly, but didn't make an effort to pull away. Instead, he stared at me and said:

"People always leave, Clara. It doesn't matter if it is you or others taking the road. People always leave."

I squeezed his hand as tight as I could.

"I'm not going anywhere."

It was an empty promise and we both knew that, but at that moment, it was enough.


End file.
